


waves crash on the shore

by and_hera



Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: Beaches, Canon Compliant, F/F, Getting Together, Light Angst, New Years, Post-Canon, Road Trips, oh the intimacies of first names
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:06:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27341686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/and_hera/pseuds/and_hera
Summary: Renée hasn’t been to a beach in a very long time. The ocean is a very different sort of monster than space, but she thinks she’ll handle it just the same: with grace, ease, and possibly a mutiny. Or two.or, the surviving Hephaestus crew is about to celebrate their first anniversary of coming home. That doesn't mean anything is easier.
Relationships: Daniel Jacobi & Renée Minkowski, Doug Eiffel & Hera, Doug Eiffel & Renée Minkowski, Hera & Renée Minkowski, Isabel Lovelace/Renée Minkowski
Comments: 7
Kudos: 41





	waves crash on the shore

**Author's Note:**

> hellooo wolf 359 nation :]  
> this fic is inspired by [this incredible art](https://twitter.com/lichbians/status/1264462147339288576?s=20) by [andromeda](https://twitter.com/lichbians?s=20)! it's fantastic, and this was supposed to be a little fic about it. i spiraled. thank u andi <3  
> and for the record, they all use first names out loud, but the use of first name vs. last name in minkowski's narration is all intentional!  
> title is from paradise valley by honey and the sting, because. of course.

“If you think there’s a chance I’m coming to you guys, you can forget about it,” Jacobi says, his voice tinny over the phone. 

“J- Daniel, aren’t you in goddamn South Carolina right now?”

“I’ve heard Myrtle Beach is lovely this time of year.”

“ _Jacobi_.”

“What happened to first names, Renée? I thought that was your idea, after all. To, you know, _humanize ourselves_.”

Renée rolls her eyes. “Don’t leave South Carolina,” she says. “I’ll convince them all to come down.”

Jacobi laughs. “No need to sound so excited,” he says cheerfully, and then hangs up on her. Renée groans and rubs her temples.

“What’s up,” Lovelace says, not bothering to knock on Renée’s door. “Weekly call with Daniel go as swimmingly as usual?”

Renée rolls her eyes. “I can’t believe he still answers,” she says.

“You’re a better woman than I am for still calling,” Lovelace replies. “You’d think that blowing up a Goddard facility would make people friends, but I think he has my number blocked.”

“It’s how he shows affection,” Renée says dryly. “And we’re going on a road trip.”

“We’re _what_?”

“He’s in South Carolina,” she says, as if that explains it. She knows it doesn’t, but it’s fun to watch Lovelace put the pieces together. Her eyes light up once she gets it.

“Anniversary is next week,” Lovelace says slowly.

“And he’s willing to _actually_ visit us. In person.”

“Ah.”

“But since he’s a stubborn little shit-”

“He’s making _us_ go to _him_ ,” Lovelace finishes. “I get it. You want to make sure he’s okay.”

Renée says, “Don’t you?”

“I mean, he is, as you said, a stubborn little shit,” Lovelace says, “but you’re right. I get it. He’s one of us.”

“No matter how hard he tries not to be,” Renée mutters.

Lovelace shakes her head. “A road trip to South Carolina,” she says. “Could be fun, I guess.”

“You know this means we have to get Doug and Hera to come.”

Lovelace snorts. “I’m sure Doug will be _thrilled_ to go on a trip,” she laughs. “Man is still trying to figure out how to be a human being.”

Renée shrugs. “True. He’s excitable, still. Some things never change, Doug _or_ Eiffel.” She runs her fingers over the shitty phone that she uses to call Jacobi, since he has her actual phone number blocked like Lovelace’s. “But Hera…”

Lovelace blows a strand of hair out of her face. “She’ll be _fine_. I’m sure she would love to try out her new body for realsies, right? And if Doug gets excited enough, she’ll come along.”

“He mentioned a _beach_. Isn’t Hera’s body, like, partly metal? I know it looks human, but-”

“No need to mention a beach until we get there, yeah?” Lovelace says, voice low as if there’s anyone in the apartment except for them. “Honestly just leave it to me. I got this.”

“If you say so,” Renée agrees. “I’ll talk to Doug if you talk to Hera.”

“Deal,” Lovelace says grandly, and holds out her hand. Renée shakes it, careful not to hold on for too long. 

* * *

Renée’s husband is with another woman, and Renée can’t even bring herself to be mad about it, which should really tell you something.

Well, of course she isn’t _mad_ about it. Legally, she’s dead. She has a grave and everything. Renée Minkowski, 1978-2016. She can’t fault Dominik for trying to move on. It’s been years.

But she isn’t _mad_ about it. Renée should by all means be a little more upset about the fact that her husband has a new woman (are they married? dating? _involved_? who knows), but after everything, she didn’t know how she would explain it to him, anyway. How do you tell someone about… everything?

Renée killed a person. Sure, Maxwell wasn’t an innocent person, not by any means, but she still did it. And she almost lost everyone countless times. There were so many fights and mutinies and changing of minds, and all of it was seven-point-nine light years from Earth and no one knew a thing had happened. No one knew that Wolf 359 changed colors. No one knew that Marcus Cutter and Miranda Pryce were no more. It’s all about perspective.

How would she explain that aliens were real and that they chose a ship, _her_ ship to talk to? How would she explain that they brought an alien back, and she’s fierce and funny and beautiful?

Renée knows he wouldn’t understand, to no fault of his own. So when she puts on sunglasses (that Lovelace _and_ Jacobi laughed at) and sits at a little table at a coffee shop by Dominik’s work, and she sees him walk out with a woman on his arm and kissing his cheek, the only thing she feels is- well. She doesn’t exactly know. But it isn’t anger. She was going to at least tell him that hey, _not dead_ , but she didn’t know if he really needed to know that yet.

And then Lovelace pats her on the arm when she gets back to the apartment that they share, and offers to buy her a drink, and she thinks, huh. Maybe that’s for a reason.

* * *

“Hera, can _you_ drive?”

“Well, I don’t have a license, obviously,” Hera replies hotly, “but I know _how_ to drive. I understand the mechanics of it. I’m sure I would be a damn good driver.”

Renée sighs and doesn’t take her eyes off the road. “Hera,” she says, “just because you understand quantum physics and have piloted a space station doesn’t mean you can drive a car. They’re different things. So, if you please, _stop_ backseat driving.”

Hera rolls her eyes. “Whatever.”

Being able to _see_ Hera’s eye-roll rather than just hearing it in her voice is a new development. Jacobi and Hera had worked together to get the body Maxwell had made functional by the time they made it back to Earth, but that didn’t mean Hera was… emotionally ready to lose her borderline omniscience for the sake of a physical body just yet. 

But she’s in it now. And she apparently cut her hair short and dyed it blue, because of course she did. She and Doug are sitting in the backseat of their rented car, with Renée driving and Lovelace sitting shotgun.

“I’m excited to see Daniel,” Doug says cheerfully, his mouth full of popcorn. Lovelace looks at Renée and raises an eyebrow.

“I don’t remember you two being buddies,” Renée replies.

“Yeah, well, he was nice to me on the way back,” Doug says. “And Hera says he isn’t half bad.”

“Does she now,” Lovelace comments. 

Hera makes a _hmph_ noise like a petulant child. “He’s- he helped out, on the way back,” she says. “And no matter what asshole façade he puts up, he cares.”

“He blocked my number twice,” Lovelace says flatly.

“But he didn’t block Renée’s,” Hera returns. 

“Wait, you guys have his number?” Doug asks.

“ _The point is_ ,” Renée says through gritted teeth, “that we’re going to South Carolina’s very own Myrtle Beach, and we’re going to _like it_.”

“Yes sir,” Eiffel says sarcas- _Doug_ says sarcastically, giving her a lazy two-fingered salute she can see in the rearview mirror.

“Wait, we’re going to a what now,” Hera cuts in. “Isabel, you didn’t say _anything_ about a beach.” She gestures to her body. “What am I supposed to do at a beach! Am I even waterproof?”

“You would think that you would know the answer to that,” Lovelace says. “Look, I’m sorry Hera, but I knew you wouldn’t go if I told you that we were going to the beach.”

“Well, I’m not going, then,” Hera says determinedly, and crosses her arms over her chest.

“You sound like a five year old,” Renée comments, and immediately regrets it, because yes, Hera _is_ a five year old, that’s right Renée I’m still figuring this out. 

She feels bad, but she knows it’s mostly in jest. Hera’s smart well beyond her years, and she’ll be fine. Eiffel will drag her out to the beach, probably, and yeah, she’ll complain about the sand but it’ll be fine in the end.

Renée hasn’t been to a beach in a very long time. The ocean is a very different sort of monster than space, but she thinks she’ll handle it just the same: with grace, ease, and possibly a mutiny. Or two.

Lovelace says, “Hera, how would it work for you to be at the beach anyway? Like, would sand get in your joints? Is that how it works?”

“Oh my God,” Hera sighs. “ _No_ , sand won’t get in my joints. My body has _skin_ , _Isabel_.”

Renée sighs. This is going to be a long trip.

* * *

They take a rest stop about an hour and a half in, because Doug decided it was a fantastic idea to bring a milkshake and Lovelace is restless. Renée agrees to let her drive. They all get snacks from the shitty Shell Station and Doug promises to not drink any more of his milkshake. Everyone knows he won’t keep the promise.

Honestly, Renée is fine with letting Lovelace drive for a bit. She hasn’t properly driven in years, because, well, _space_ , and now they’re living in NYC, which entails much more public transport and walking.

It’s funny. She had to get used to walking again, once they got back. She had walked through the _Sol_ once or twice, sure, with its artificial gravity, but it isn’t the same as being on solid ground. For a few days, it was like walking through water. Wading, not walking.

Renée remembered it eventually, of course. Doug picked it up faster than the rest of them did, which made sense- the things he remembered were basic motor skills and speaking. It’s understandable that he struggled in the _Urania_ for most of the time and understood walking on Earth. Lovelace- Lovelace took some time. Jacobi, too.

Driving’s the same. She knows how, of course, it’s like riding a bike, you never forget how. But her knee keeps cramping up and her foot aches from pressing the pedals. Lovelace’ll have it easy, honestly. All she has is the highway, and she can just put on cruise control until the next time they stop.

“Did you bring your knee brace?” Renée asks. Lovelace turns from the register where the cashier has her card, an amused look on her face. “Sorry,” she says. “I just- I just remembered you mentioning a knee injury.”

Lovelace laughs. The cashier hands her back her card, and she puts it in her wallet. “Yeah, I did,” she says. “Nice of you to remember, Renée. It’s not like I had it- you know.” She points up at the ceiling. 

Renée puts her peanut M&M’s on the counter and doesn’t bother to say anything to the cashier who looks more confused by the minute. “I’ve definitely seen it in the apartment before,” she explains. 

“Holy shit, you guys,” Doug says, bursting out of the bathroom. “There’s like- a _thing_ in there. It’s-” and then he makes an elaborate display of shivering in fear. “It has like, legs? And it was _moving towards me_ -”

“A spider, Doug?” Hera asks. “Was there a spider in the bathroom?”

“Oh, God,” he says. “Was it? I mean, I remember hearing- hearing _him_ talk about them on the tapes but I never looked up what they look like!”

“I mean, they are all _very_ poisonous. You’re lucky you came out of there alive.”

“They _are_?!”

Lovelace snorts. “I see that Hera’s taking her new ability to lie very seriously,” she says.

Renée puts her face in her hands. “We’re driving with two children,” she says. “Like, almost literally.”

“Uh, that’ll be two twenty-seven, ma’am,” the cashier says awkwardly, and Renée slowly hands him a five.

* * *

Funnily enough, they arrived back on Earth on January 1st, 2018. Three months after Renée set a course. And Renée said to them all, “You know, we’re not _technically_ alive, which means that we really don’t have to call each other by our ranks. We can just- use first names.”

And then Jacobi replied with “is that an order, sir?” and Lovelace punched him in the arm. It wasn’t that hard of a change for Doug, since he already called them all by their first names, and Hera doesn’t really forget things, but Renée still catches herself stumbling over it now. She knows Lovelace does, too.

They came back to Earth, and they visited Goddard Futuristics to tell them that Marcus Cutter and Miranda Pryce are dead (because no matter who she is now, the woman with Pryce’s face really isn’t her anymore, and she would have no idea what to do back there. Renée tried not to think about what that meant for Eiffel- for Doug). Goddard gave them a not insignificant amount of hush money. A month later, Lovelace and Jacobi went and did- _something_ , and Lovelace came back to New York City with more money and destroyed clothes in her suitcase and asked if Renée was looking for a roommate.

She also had a crumpled piece of notebook paper in her pocket with a phone number. Jacobi had said to only call for emergencies, but Renée decided that that was stupid. “We’re all in this together,” she said to him when he stopped hanging up. “You have to keep in touch, yeah?”

He complained about it, but he still picks up her calls every Friday at four p.m. sharp.

Doug and Hera got a little house together in the city, big enough that Hera could live as an AI and still have her whole brain incorporated (with Renée and Lovelace’s help). Renée and Lovelace go over for dinner, sometimes.

One night, Lovelace made some fantastically awful lasagna that Renée and Doug pretended to enjoy, and the topic of Jacobi came up, because Renée had just called him and he sounded like he was getting into trouble again. “I’d be worried if he wasn’t up to no good,” Hera commented from a speaker in the corner of the room, luckily spared from the dinner.

“I wish he would come visit sometime,” Doug said. “Apparently we had sex once.”

Renée choked on her lasagna. “ _What_.”

Which led to a discussion about Doug truly not knowing what sexuality was after everything, and poor Daniel Jacobi apparently having to explain it on the ride back home, and what the secret room on the _Hephaestus_ was really used for.

Renée hasn’t seen the guy since he stopped by a few months ago, soaking wet from the rain. He asked to come in, and she let him in, and Lovelace hurled a towel at his head so he didn’t drip all over their carpet. He slept on their couch and then left the following morning. Renée doesn’t know what prompted the visit, but she was glad he was doing all right.

Renée protects her crew. Sure, that didn’t always include Jacobi, but now it does. And if protecting him entails ten minute phone calls where she has to put up with pure sarcasm the whole time and ten hour road trips to South Carolina, then that’s what she will do.

* * *

They stop again around the five hour mark, because Hera is saying that if she doesn’t stretch her legs she will actually break, goddamnit, which is an unfairly good excuse to not have to do things. So they stop at a McDonald’s somewhere in Maryland. Unsurprisingly, McDonald’s is just as shitty wherever you’re at in the states.

Doug gets fries, and Lovelace steals one. Hera doesn’t, because no matter how human-like Hera’s body is, she still doesn’t need to eat, but she looks like she wants to just out of spite. Renée gets nuggets and they are just as awful as she remembers them being on roadtrips in years past.

She also negotiates with Lovelace, citing that it’s her turn to drive and not that when they got out of the car, Lovelace flexed her leg and her knee made a frightening noise. Lovelace had only nodded in satisfaction, but Renée decided she was probably done.

“Renée,” Lovelace says, “I’m really not tired. It’s only like, one in the afternoon. I can keep going for a bit.”

Renée waves her off. “It’s fine,” she says. “It helps me keep my mind off things, anyway. And I’m sure your music taste is far better than mine, so it makes sense you should have the aux.”

“At least those two don’t have much of a sense of what is and what isn’t good music,” Lovelace murmurs, and jerks her head to Hera and Doug, who are sitting in a booth in the back of the place. If Renée listens, she can hear Doug trying to explain what fries taste like. Hera is nodding along like she’s genuinely interested.

“Do you ever think,” Renée starts, and then she pauses and tries again. “You know, in another life, do you ever wonder if-”

“Yeah,” Lovelace replies, looking at Doug and Hera. “I mean, you heard Eiffel before he- before. How he said her name. I think-”

“I think he loved her,” Renée admits. “I really do.”

“In another life, maybe he wouldn’t have forgotten,” Lovelace agrees. “And maybe they- I don’t know.”

“Awfully introspective while waiting for your McDonald’s happy meal, Captain.”

“First of all, happy meals are good,” Lovelace argues, “and I thought we agreed that ranks were only for the bedroom, Renée,” she finishes, lowering her voice.

Renée laughs awkwardly and pretends her face doesn’t flush. “Do you want to go tell them to get ready to go, or should I?” she asks.

Lovelace laughs. “You got it,” she says. 

* * *

They stop a few more times. Doug and Hera keep to themselves in the back, mostly, Doug playing with his phone that he’s still figuring out and Hera working on a crossword puzzle book. She’s almost complete with it by the time they get to the hotel Renée reserved.

Two rooms, one for Doug and Hera, the other for Renée and Lovelace, next door to each other. New Year’s is in a few days, so they have time, but Renée wanted to make sure they were there in time to catch Jacobi. She really doesn’t trust the guy to not simply leave South Carolina to escape.

She calls him. “Hello,” she says as soon as it picks up, because he’s the type of person to simply not say anything until she does. “We just got to a hotel.”

“Wait, really?” Jacobi says. “You _actually_ drove down here?”

“Well, yeah,” Renée replies. “It’s the anniversary in a few days, and we never see you. Everyone misses you.”

“Everyone, huh?”

“Yes,” Renée insists. “ _Everyone_. We got Hera to admit that you’re ‘not half bad’, you know. _Hera_. _Not half bad_.”

“Yes, yes, alright,” Jacobi replies, and Renée can see him in her mind’s eye waving his hands as if it would make her shut up. “I get it. I’m fuckin’ incredible and you all miss my delightful presence.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Renée says. 

He sighs. “Where are you?”

“In some Hampton Inn. It’s not _that_ expensive, and I’m just using the money Lovelace brought back after your little adventure she refuses to talk about.”

A beat. “She really hasn’t talked about it?”

“The most I’ve heard is that you guys blew up a Goddard establishment,” Renée says. “Nothing else.”

Jacobi hums into the receiver. “Text me the address,” he says. “I’ll come by tomorrow. We can go to the beach.”

Renée doesn’t even get the chance to say “okay” before she hears a dial tone. She sighs, and texts him the address. 

Lovelace steps out of the bathroom with a towel around her head and sloppy pajamas on. “Was that Mister Jacobi?” she asks, only partially mocking Kepler’s voice.

Renée nods. “He’ll be here tomorrow,” she says. “And apparently he’s surprised that you haven’t told me about your little ‘get fucked, Goddard’ adventure you went on.”

“Well, maybe if he didn’t block my goddamn phone number, I could talk to him,” Lovelace mutters. Renée snickers. “The bathroom’s yours, by the way.”

“Thanks,” Renée says. “I’ll go check on Doug and Hera first.”

So she leaves the door propped open with the doorstop before knocking on the room next to them. Hera opens it. “What’s up, Renée,” she says. Renée walks inside.

“Just making sure you guys are settled,” she says. “Jacobi’ll be here tomorrow.”

“Oh, joy,” Hera says. “Can’t wait for _that_. Does that mean we’re going to the beach?”

Renée nods. Hera groans and falls backwards onto her bed. “Where’s Doug?” Renée asks.

“He’s in the shower,” Hera says. Renée sits on the other bed, and Hera sits up to look at her. “Is there something you need, Commander?” she asks. “No. Renée. I know that. It’s weird, in this body. I don’t just _do things_ without thinking about it. Well, I do, but not the _right_ things.”

“It’s alright, Hera,” Renée says. “I got it. Old habits die hard.”

Hera nods. Renée hears someone singing in the shower, and she raises an eyebrow. Hera smiles fondly. “He does that sometimes,” she says. “That’s the one thing he’ll remember. Songs. Other memories? Nada. But music?”

Renée thinks he might be singing Pachabel’s Canon in D. “That makes sense,” she says. “You know, people with Alzheimer’s sometimes remember music, for whatever reason. And that’s why people always put things they need to memorize to music. It sticks with you.”

“Remember when he tried to rank all the music that one night, and he sang Canon in D over the speakers for five minutes straight?” Hera says, and Renée laughs.

“Is it awful to say that I miss him?” Renée asks quietly.

Hera sighs. “I hope not,” she says. “I’m glad we have him, and I know he sacrificed himself for us. And that’s Doug, right there, still alive, still kicking. But-”

“That’s not _Eiffel_ ,” Renée finishes. “I know.”

Hera closes her eyes. “After everything he went through to get to that point,” she says. “He _deserved_ to make it home. And he did, I guess, but. You know.”

Doug’s humming a different tune now. Renée wishes she didn’t know that it was Boléro by Ravel, the one that played while Lovelace came back to life. “What do you think he was going to say,” Renée asks. “To you. He never got to-”

“I don’t think about it,” Hera interrupts. “I try not to, at least. I can hazard a guess as to what he was going to say, but.”

“I understand,” Renée says. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, Commander.” Hera sharply breathes out. “Renée.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Renée stands up, and she touches Hera’s shoulder as she walks by. “Tell Ei- Doug the plan for tomorrow, yeah?”

“Will do,” Hera replies.

* * *

There’s a banging on their room door that wakes Renée up. Half-awake, she thinks that their neighbors must hate them and rolls over. A second later, she realizes that it’s probably Jacobi banging on their door, so she rolls out of bed to let him in.

“Hey, Renée,” Jacobi says, cheery as always. “Took you long enough to let me in.”

“God, I was _asleep_ , you asshole,” Renée says. “When you said tomorrow, I thought you meant the afternoon, or something.”

“You know what they say about a man who’s early to bed and early to rise,” Jacobi replies, shrugging. Renée looks at the clock on the wall, and it’s six thirty two in the morning. She kind of wants to die. “Do you guys have coffee?”

“There should be a machine somewhere,” Renée says, waving a hand. “And keep your voice down. I think Isabel is still asleep.”

“Isabel is _not_ still asleep,” Lovelace says, yawning. “I hardly sleep anyway, though, so it’s not a big deal. Hey, Daniel.”

“Hey, Izzy.”

“I _told_ you not to call me that.”

Jacobi rolls his eyes and sets out looking for the coffee machine. Renée catches a glance of herself in the wall mirror and realizes that Jacobi’s never really seen her looking like this before. By the time he had arrived on the _Hephaestus_ , her hair dye was already mostly gone, and when he came by the apartment to visit he seemed to barely notice anyone or anything. He hasn’t seen her with her freshly dyed red hair before, and he’s certainly never seen how short she decided to cut it a few months ago.

Also, there’s the fact that she just woke up and has bags under her eyes. Renée could kill him for waking her up early on vacation.

“Where are Doug and Hera?” Jacobi asks casually as he helps himself to the shitty hotel coffee. “They get their own room?” 

“Yeah, next door,” Lovelace replies. “Don’t wake them up, too, asshole.”

“Oh wow, real original insult,” Jacobi returns. He takes his MIT hoodie off and underneath he’s wearing a shirt that says “BOOM BOOM WOW”. Renée laughs out loud, and he looks down at the shirt like he forgot he was wearing it. “I got this in the mail,” he says dryly. “I think a certain AI had something to do with it.”

“Of course she did,” Lovelace says. “I can’t believe you actually wear it.”

He shrugs, and takes a sip of the coffee. And then immediately coughs and spits it out into the sink. “Jesus Christ,” he says. “What-”

“I left the salt out instead of the sugar,” Lovelace calls, and then she shuts the door to the bathroom.

“Fuck you,” Jacobi shouts.

“The neighbors _definitely_ hate us,” Renée mutters.

* * *

Renée and Lovelace are sitting in the sand. Lovelace is wearing a bikini, because of course she is, and Renée is having a completely normal reaction to that. They’re both under a big umbrella to stay in the shade because Renée burns like anything and Lovelace is eating the ice cream that she got at a stand on the way there. 

Hera’s sitting off to the side in a chair with a big straw hat over her eyes and wearing heart sunglasses that Doug bought her. Doug is running across the waterline, picking things out of the sand. Jacobi’s in the water, cheering him on.

“Isn’t it fucked up that I’m like… the first alien to eat some vanilla ice cream?” Lovelace asks, nonchalant.

Renée looks to the side. “To be honest, I kind of forgot about the whole alien thing,” she confesses.

“Yeah. I wish I could say the same.” There’s ice cream on Lovelace’s lip. The sun is shining, and Lovelace’s eyes are bright, and there’s ice cream on her upper lip. 

Renée says, “Hey, Isabel-”

“Renée!” Doug shouts, running up towards her with a bucket. “Check out all these sandcrabs that I just caught!” He brandishes the bucket under her nose.

“Yeah, they’re pretty dope,” Jacobi agrees, smirking at her. Renée shoots him a look.

Lovelace wipes her mouth with the back of her arm. “They’re pretty cool, Doug,” she says. “I didn’t know they had sandcrabs here.”

“Yeah, Daniel showed me,” Doug explains. His eyes light up. “Let’s go show Hera!” he says brightly, and Jacobi nods in agreement, following after him as he runs to the other chair.

Lovelace snickers. “You know, it’s kind of funny when you think about it,” she says. “Imagine being Daniel Jacobi. Colonel Kepler won’t give you the time of day-”

“Isabel, Jacobi was just about the only person that Colonel Kepler _would_ give the time of day to.”

Lovelace waves her off. “Whatever. Imagine you’re Daniel Jacobi, and you get this guy off one time, and then he _loses his memory_ , and you have to both explain what gay people are and that you had sex.”

Renée says, “You know, I really don’t want to imagine that I’m Daniel,” and Lovelace laughs.

“You were saying something, though,” Lovelace says. “What were you going to say?”

“You had ice cream on your mouth,” Renée replies.

Lovelace raises an eyebrow. “Oh?”

Renée kisses her. 

And honestly, it’s been a long time coming, but that doesn’t make it any less nice. Lovelace tastes like vanilla ice cream and she’s a very good kisser and even though Renée _knows_ that any moment, either Hera or Doug or Jacobi will run over and notice, she doesn’t mind. Her hair is curly and Renée runs her fingers through it.

There’s a whistle from their left, and Renée turns to see Jacobi clapping, Doug grinning, and Hera taking her sunglasses off to send them a look. Isabel flips Jacobi off, and he says something that Renée can’t quite hear, but was probably asshole-ish.

“Isn’t it fucked up that you’re the first alien to kiss a human person,” Renée says, grinning.

“What, you think I haven’t kissed someone since I got back to Earth?” Isabel replies. “Bold of you to assume I didn’t already get it on with Eiffel.”

“Don’t say that while you’re kissing me,” Renée argues, and Isabel laughs and leans in.

* * *

Renée and Isabel share one of the shitty Hampton Inn beds that night. Jacobi leaves to go- well, wherever he goes, but he says he’ll be back in the morning, and Renée knows that he’ll keep his word.

* * *

The next morning, Renée sits on the balcony of their apartment and drinks the shitty coffee. Isabel is still asleep, or at least pretending to be, so Renée leaves her be.

Jacobi finds his way inside the room (probably because Renée left a keycard half under the door trusting that he would find it when he got there) and joins her.

“You know, they have all three of our graves together,” he says out of nowhere, and Renée chokes on her coffee because that is _not_ what she thought he would say.

“Whose graves?” she asks.

Jacobi scoffs. “Kepler’s, Maxwell’s, and mine.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. I haven’t seen them. I just found a record of it while Lovelace and I were- you know.”

“Taking down Goddard Futuristics one shitty building at a time?”

He laughs. “Something like that.”

“Did you ever give them her- her body?” Renée asks cautiously. “I mean, did you ever take it off the _Hephaestus?_ I don’t remember seeing it on the _Urania_ , but I didn’t go looking, either.”

“Nah.” Jacobi puts his hands in his pockets. “I never brought her home. Didn’t have the time, what with moving two half-dead people, two mind-wiped people, and a stubborn AI. Oh, and not getting dead.” He sighs. “And I wouldn’t have given her to Goddard, anyway.”

“Three empty graves,” Renée says. She takes a sip of her coffee.

“I thought it would be weirder, knowing that there’s a headstone somewhere with my name on it,” Jacobi comments. “Like, any movie with that in it makes it always seem so dramatic. But I can’t really bring myself to care.”

Renée nods. “I saw my grave,” she says. “My husband- well, I guess he’s my ex-husband. I don’t know what you would call that, when you ‘die’ and he moves on but you come back, decidedly not dead.”

“Complicated?”

She laughs. “Yeah. I guess that sums it up. But he must have worked it all out. It’s strange, standing there, but it’s just another piece of rock.”

Jacobi finally sits down in the lawn chair beside her, and props his feet up on the railing. “I’ve been moving around a lot,” he says.

“I’ve noticed,” Renée replies wryly. “That’s why I call.”

“I thought you called to make sure I wasn’t doing anything illegal.”

“Daniel, I generally assume that you’re doing _something_ illegal. I call to make sure you won’t get killed for it.”

“Didn’t know you cared so much, Commander.”

Renée rolls her eyes. “Don’t be sarcastic. You know I care.”

Jacobi sighs. Looks away. “Sure,” he says. 

“It’s New Year’s Eve,” she says. “Will you stick around for the anniversary?”

He nods, slowly. “I think I’ll be around more often,” he says. “I think I needed to get some things done first, but I’d like to come by.”

Renée smiles. She hands him her coffee. “I don’t need all the caffeine,” she says. “Trying to not get addicted again. And I promise there’s no salt.”

“Ha, ha,” Jacobi replies, but he drinks it anyway. 

* * *

When the clock strikes midnight on New Year’s, Renée, Isabel, Hera, Doug, and Jacobi are all in one hotel room, watching the television count down. At midnight, Renée kisses Isabel, Doug kisses Hera on the cheek, and Jacobi takes a drink straight from the bottle.

“It’s been one year,” Renée says. “And I think we’ll make it through another one.”

Jacobi says, “Hear, hear.”

**Author's Note:**

> thank you very much for reading! pls leave comments if you enjoyed and support [andromeda](https://twitter.com/lichbians?s=20) on twitter!


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